


bloom

by hudders-and-hiddles (LeslieWrites)



Series: tempting fate [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anniversary, Developing Relationship, Early Days, Fluff, Gifts, M/M, POV David Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeslieWrites/pseuds/hudders-and-hiddles
Summary: Patrick gives David a one-month anniversary gift.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: tempting fate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719394
Comments: 50
Kudos: 283





	bloom

**Author's Note:**

> In my early days of writing for this fandom, I had a plan to write a fic with an entire year's worth of monthly anniversary gifts, and I made it about halfway and kind of forgot about it as I moved on to other projects. At this point, more than a year later, I know I'm never going to actually finish it, but I particularly like the first three chapters, and it would be nice not to leave them lingering in my drafts unread forever. So I'm just going to publish each of those here in a little series. Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to Claire for digging through old fic drafts with me and therefore being the reason this series is being posted at all.

David doesn’t do anniversaries.

David does flirting and fucking and fighting and forgetting. He doesn’t do anniversaries.

But apparently Patrick does. Because this morning there’d been a text before David had even gotten out of bed.  _ It’s been a month since you first kissed me, _ it had said, and David had rolled his eyes at the sentiment but smiled at the memory. That, he had hoped, would be the end of it.

Of course it isn’t. 

Even though Patrick isn’t working today, when David gets to the store there is a small, well-arranged bouquet on the counter, and he stops halfway through the front door to stare at it in horror. 

Pulling off his sunglasses, he approaches it with all the caution owed to a suspected bomb. Deep red amaryllises and bright yellow daffodils are tucked in amongst an assortment of roses—white and orange and the most beautiful coral that David recognizes as the signature offering from Mrs. Bouchard, one of their suppliers out toward Elm Valley. The whole thing is like a little burst of sunshine in a jar. 

It’s horrible. Why would Patrick do this?

Because Patrick is sweet, he reminds himself. He’s sweet and kind and sometimes endearingly traditional, which means he does things like celebrate anniversaries, like a normal person.

But David isn’t a normal person. David is an abnormal person who thinks it’s ridiculous to celebrate a month of dating. He’s been on holidays that have lasted longer than that. Hell, he’s been to parties that have lasted longer than that. A month is nothing. It certainly isn’t cause for celebration. 

It seems, however, that Patrick disagrees, so David will have to set the record straight.

He glances around to make sure no one is watching through the windows and gingerly moves the bouquet to a shelf in the back room, out of sight. For a while, he can forget about it. There’s work to be done before opening, and then there’s the inevitable morning rush. People in Schitt’s Creek like to get an early start, which David finds endlessly irritating, as it means having to wake up at some god awful hour so that they can open at nine. If it had been up to him, they would open at noon, but Patrick insists they start the day earlier to capture the morning crowd. He’s right of course—they do good business in the mornings—but David would be loath to admit that to his face.

Once the last few early-bird customers trickle out, David steps into the back and pulls out his phone, where Patrick’s message from this morning is still waiting for him. With a long look at the offending bouquet, tucked between unopened boxes of hand cream and body milk, he shakes his head and types out a reply.

_I’d never have kissed you if I’d known it_ _  
_ _would lead to THIS._

_ And by THIS you mean...? _

_ You know what you did. _

_ You don’t like the flowers? _

David can picture his grin, the way his mouth settles into that taunting little curve that means he’s amused with himself.

_ No, I like the flowers. The flowers are lovely.  _

_It’s what the flowers represent that I don’t_ _  
_ _like._

_ Oh see that’s where you’re confused. I  _ _  
_ _ didn’t buy the flowers as some kind of  _ _  
_ _ metaphor. I bought them because I thought  _ _  
_ _ you would like them. _

David is torn between annoyance and affection. Patrick can pretend that there’s no meaning behind the flowers, that they’re not an anniversary gift all he wants, but that doesn’t stop them from actually being an anniversary gift. And David doesn’t want anniversary gifts. But no one has ever given him flowers before either, and he can’t quite bring himself to hate that part of the gesture. The bouquet is really quite nice. It would look good on the table next to his bed, though he’d never in a million years put it there where his whole family could see and—he shudders at the thought—ask him about it. No, these are secret flowers: a sweet gesture that no one else can ever know about.

_Well as long as they’re not metaphorical,_ _  
_ _one month anniversary flowers, I guess I_ _  
_ _won’t have to throw them out._

_ Is today our one month anniversary? You  _ _  
_ _ should have told me sooner. I would have  _ _  
_ _ gotten you flowers. _

David hates him.

_ I hate you. _

He hates that pleased smirk he knows Patrick is wearing right now. He hates how quick he is, how well he can keep up with David’s quips. He hates the way he can turn anything into a joke, his endless good humor softening the sharp edges of David’s neuroses. 

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t hate any of that at all. That all of it leaves him feeling like he’s stumbling off the starting blocks, graceless and uncertain but moving forward all the same, on a track that leads straight to some other four-letter word, one that David has never in his life even considered uttering in relation to someone he’s dating. He’s only even said it to his own parents twice; it certainly isn’t a word he’s going to trot out for Patrick, in his carefully-if-inexpertly ironed button-ups and his ugly hiking boots, just because he’s brought David flowers.

_ Too bad. Guess I’ll have to cancel this  _ _  
_ _ reservation for Pasta Bene tonight. _

David ignores the part of his brain that’s screaming out in agony at the thought of an anniversary dinner. Patrick hadn’t called it that, and he’s already made it clear he doesn’t do anniversaries, hasn’t he? He takes a different tack.

_I know my Italian is rusty, but there are so_ _  
_ _many things wrong with that name I don’t_ _  
_ _even know where to start._

_ You speak Italian? _

_Better than whomever named that_ _  
_ _restaurant at least, thanks to a very long,_ _  
_ _luxurious summer in Positano._

_ I’m guessing spaghetti in Elmdale probably  _ _  
_ _ isn’t exactly a thrill then. _

David grimaces. He hadn’t meant to sound unappreciative or unwilling. It’s just a stark reminder of the two different worlds from which they’d come. But David doesn’t live in that world anymore—the one with all the travel and the excess, the hangers-on and the gnawing pit of loneliness in his belly. As much as he might still dream about dining on blue lobster fettucelle in clifftop gardens or drinking rosemary and gin fizzes on sunset-soaked seaside terraces, he knows he would rather spend the evening at a cheap Italian restaurant in Elmdale if it means he gets to do it with Patrick.

_ Pick me up at the motel at 6? _

_ Our reservation isn’t until 8 actually. They  _ _  
_ _ were surprisingly busy for a Monday. _

_ Good. _

_That will give us plenty of time to find_ _  
_ _an empty parking lot and make out._

_ 6 it is! See you then. _

David slips his phone back into his pocket and, with one last glance at the bright little bouquet on the shelf, heads back out to the floor to reorganize the teas and think about what he should wear tonight. 

After all, he has a hot date at one of Elmdale’s most mediocre eateries—the Amalfi Coast could never compare.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr as [wild-aloof-rebel](http://wild-aloof-rebel.tumblr.com) (my Schitt's Creek blog) or [hudders-and-hiddles](http://hudders-and-hiddles.tumblr.com) (my main).


End file.
